


corbeau

by voguesloth



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Birds, Emotional Constipation, Hux-centric, M/M, Post-Break Up, Smoking, i love kylux as bitter exes, weird symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:35:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22074127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voguesloth/pseuds/voguesloth
Summary: Naturally, in moments of weakness much like this one, he hates the general concept of experiencing emotion with a passion, because it would be so much easier to just not feel anything at all.aka — a little something about hux being a sad thot
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren
Kudos: 21





	corbeau

**Author's Note:**

> I found this laying around on my drive and realised I never posted it! I love kylux as bitter exes and modern!hux just strikes me as someone who'd hold a lot of bitterness after they'd broken up

Stubbing his only half-smoked cigarette out on the edge of the glass ashtray, Hux takes in the view of the city buzzing in the distance. For a brief moment, he thinks about pushing the crystal receptacle off from the windowsill and watching it shatter on the pavement below, but he drops the thought just before it can cloud his judgment completely. It would be unreasonable and endlessly stupid to ruin a perfectly good ashtray just because he can't deal with a minorly inconveniencing situation. With a deep sigh, he leans his back against the faux-wooden frame and trails the cigarette butt through the powdery remains of many previous ones that he should probably dispose of.

He's never been the type to act on impulse, or to yield to some base whim trying to force its way into his mind; except, of course, in the rare event of failing to remain his collected, rational self. It's not even a matter of trying not to submit to a temptation, of trying not to jump from his safe, dispassionate spot. It’s all those despicable feelings that always seem to come for him all at once, then snatch him right from it, that are to blame for his current, distraught state.

Naturally, in moments of weakness much like this one, he hates the general concept of experiencing emotion with a passion, because it would be so much easier to just not feel anything at all. He hates himself as well, for allowing himself to let his guard down, for letting another person disrupt the order that he spent so much time and energy putting his world in, for giving in to something he should’ve expected to end like this. He should have seen from the very start that getting involved would only mean exposing himself to the risk of getting hurt.

He hates Ren, too, probably most of all; he hates Ren for making him feel things only to break up with him and ruin everything afterwards, for leaving him with a desire to hurl himself into the void because it seems like the only place where he could get rid of the suffocating lump of bile in his throat and silence the overwhelming urge to puke his guts out.

After a moment of soaking up the late afternoon sun, Hux slides off of the windowsill. Feeling the texture of the plush carpet under his bare feet is a small relief, but it’s far from enough to disperse his melancholy entirely. His ire is much less violent than at the beginning, and the wounds their last meeting inflicted on him are slowly starting to heal, but the bruises underneath them are still sensitive to even the lightest of touches. The pain is slowly fading into a muted feeling of resentment, but it stings all the same, even though it’s supposed to dull.

A sudden rustle makes him turn to face the window again. Much to his surprise, a large crow—or a raven, he’s never sure which of the two is which—has decided to land on the ledge. The bird doesn’t remain still for long, though; just a moment after setting its legs on the sill, it preens and ruffles its charcoal feathers a bit, almost as if doing a little dance.

Then, it turns its little head sideways to look straight at Hux and stares at him for a moment before letting out a loud caw. It sounds rather insistent, perhaps even a little impatient or annoyed, and for some reason, it creates the impression that the black bird is trying to say something to him. What the meaning of the message is remains unclear, and quite unfortunately, Hux’s set of skills doesn’t include successfully communicating with animals of any kind.

No matter how many attempts at decoding it he has already made, he’s forced to forgo them as the crow spreads its wings and flies away energetically, striking the ashtray in the process. The container moves rapidly towards the edge of the windowsill, and before Hux can reach out for it with his hand, it falls down to the ground; a distant yet still sharp sound of shattering glass reaches his ears a minute or two later.

Whatever brief distraction the animal supplied him with is gone now, along with the mystery of its calling, and Hux begins to snap back into his previous gloomy mood. With some quasi-poetic amusement, though, he can admit to himself now that the crow’s actions bore some similarity to Ren’s general behaviour. The bird arrived, caught his attention, and then left abruptly, making a mess on its way out, just like its human counterpart. The realisation is enough to make Hux chuckle lightly as he closes the window.

A faint echo of a smile lingers on his face when he makes his way through his flat to grab a broom and dustpan from the kitchen. It’s only logical that he’s got to clean up the mess the bird made; besides, he’s pretty sure none of his neighbours would be particularly happy about tiny glass shards shattered all around the front porch. After all, the responsible, orderly fashion in which its residents aim to live was one of the reasons why he’d chosen the suburb as a suitable place to live in the first place. It’s just how it should be in a perfect world—peaceful and quiet, with absolutely no disruptions and every inconvenience remedied as soon as it has been noticed. It only makes sense that in order to make everyone’s life, including his own, he needs to pick up and dispose of the broken pieces.

As he slides his shoes on, he makes the decision to apply this principle elsewhere, too.


End file.
